


Timing is Everything

by anne_ammons



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adaptation, Draco gets turned out and doesn't know what to do with himself, F/M, Hermione is a bad ass, Inspired by Four Weddings and A Funeral (1994), Minor Character Death, POV Draco Malfoy, Sexy Times, as usual, rom com
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27021892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anne_ammons/pseuds/anne_ammons
Summary: Draco Malfoy is your average bachelor living an average bachelor's life, until he crosses paths with his former classmate, Hermione Granger.Strike that - when has Draco Malfoy ever been average?A retelling of the 1994 movie, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Dramione-style.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 43
Kudos: 154
Collections: Dramione RomCom Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DramioneRomComFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DramioneRomComFest) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994) - claimed by anne_ammons
> 
> Written for the Dramione Rom-Com fest hosted by NuclearNik and QuinTalon.
> 
> A/B Thanks to nztina. All remaining errors are mine alone.
> 
> Additional thanks to kifiyathewriter for the awesome cover art and Zorak23 for the design assistance.

As Draco’s mind began to regain consciousness, he sensed, rather than felt, the body lying next to him.The details of the previous night began to filter back. Drinks — there had been an awful lot of drinks. Dancing — if you could call the mass of bodies gyrating together anything resembling dancing.

At one point, he had found himself partnered with a woman — tall, blonde, leggy, delicious French accent. She had whispered in his ear that they should head out and “get to know each other a little better.” That was all the invitation he needed.

By the time they hit the alley, they were lost in a tangle of limbs and lust. 

He cracked open an eye to check. Yes, here she was, still in his bed. He groaned. It was so messy to have to deal with them in the morning, particularly when his head told him that he had made a few too many bad decisions the night before. He much preferred when they slipped out while he was still sleeping (or feigning sleep), thankful to have been shagged by Draco Malfoy, but concerned about their reputation, nonetheless.

The ones who stayed were more complicated because they may have mistakenly thought they had a chance at more than one night: a relationship, an invitation to become the next Mrs. Malfoy — he wasn’t sure, but it didn’t really matter. Now, the game was trying to get rid of her without it becoming “an incident.” His roommate would strangle him if they ended up with another lovesick girl stalking their doorstep.

It wasn’t his fault he was so damned talented. (Or was it wealthy? He could never be certain which it was that made women think he was an appropriate target.)

Draco struggled to remember her name. Celine? Celeste?

She was definitely waking up now.

She turned towards him with a lazy smile on her face, and her hand began to wander down his torso. Clearly, she was under the impression that they would be repeating some of their activities from the night before. Some parts of him were quick to agree, namely the parts that weren’t nursing a massive hangover.

A knock on the door broke him out of his reverie.

“Mate! You’ve got places to be.”

Draco’s brain suddenly kicked into overdrive. He sat up, dislodging Celestina’s hand and jumped out of bed. He threw on the nearest pair of pants and started collecting her belongings.

“Celina, I’m so sorry to cut this short. You’ve been lovely, but as you heard, I’ve got places to be.”

Cellophane pouted, but didn’t move. He tossed her dress at her and started walking from the room, hoping she would get the hint and follow.

“Who was that?” Her voice trailed after him.

“My roommate. He’ll be terribly cross for the disruption in his morning routine. He’s got places to be, too, you see.”

He heard her leave the bed and exhaled, glad she was leaving on her own volition. He didn’t have time to deal with this.

He handed Salami her shoes as they neared the Floo.

It looked like she was reluctant to go, waiting to see if he might kiss her or something.

He shoved the rest of her belongings into her arms and grabbed the pot of Floo powder, ignoring her confused and perhaps slightly miffed face. She wasn’t nearly as fetching without the whisky goggles he’d had on last night.

He made a mental note that he wasn’t really a fan of blondes. There were too many surprises once you realized that the color on top of their head wasn’t their real color.

He stood there awkwardly, as she wouldn’t move.

“Uh… Thanks.” He leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. “Don’t Floo me, I’ll Floo you.”

The look on her face made clear that this was not the goodbye she was hoping for. Recognizing that she wasn’t going to get more than that, she got the hint and stomped off in a whirl of green flames.

Thank Salazar the Floo was charmed to only allow a handful of people access to their flat. It would be horribly awkward if he actually had to follow up with any of his random shags. It was hard enough trying to keep them straight if he bumped into them in the light of day.

He took a breath and padded into the kitchen where he was sure that his roommate, Theo Nott, would be waiting to give him a hard time.

Sure enough, Theo sat calmly at the table in the kitchen, reading the Daily Prophet and sipping a cup of tea. His face sported a look of amusement as Draco sat at the table, eyeing the vial of hangover potion and steaming black coffee in front of him.

“You’re the bloody best.”

Draco uncorked the vial and tipped his head back. Instantly, the fog in his brain began to clear.

“I know. Who was it this time?” Theo looked up from the paper.

“Uh, dunno. Beauxbatons, I think? Seraphina?” 

Draco took a sip of his coffee and glanced at his roommate.

“Why is it you always look so chipper in the morning?”

“I don’t get shit-faced and fall into bed with random bints.” Theo made an exaggerated show of looking at his watch and Draco realized, with dawning horror, that unlike him, Theo was already dressed for the day.

“You may want to hurry, Draco. You’re due at the Patils in just over an hour. And I don’t fancy hearing the screaming if you’re late.”

Draco stood from the table and hustled to his room wondering if random shags were worth all the trouble.

“Bugger.”

* * *

“I just don’t see why people wear hats at weddings. We’re all sitting. It does nothing but block the view.”

Draco couldn’t see Pansy’s reaction to Theo’s comment, but he could hear her eyes roll from here. Of course, Theo had said it primarily to get a rise out of her. It was their age old argument. Pansy only sported a spectator, but true to the eccentricities of Wizarding fashion, if some fashion was good, more must be better. It meant that for some witches, and a few wizards, their hats stood nearly a foot tall; which was fine for standing around and chatting, less helpful for sitting and trying to see the actual wedding take place.

Theo was happy to make his displeasure known. Thankfully, Draco had no problem seeing, as he was stationed at the front of the room, beside the groom. It wasn’t that he and Marcus Flint were particularly close, mind you, but apparently Parvati had vetoed her fiancé’s other selections, and the two had settled on Draco as a compromise pick. Draco wasn’t bothered by the diplomatic selection. He and Marcus had been friends for years, and while he thought the match between the two was a bit unexpected, if not odd, he was pleased that the couple seemed surprisingly well suited.

Today, Parvati was resplendent in red robes, her skin marked with mendhi. The ceremony itself was a mix of a British magical bonding with an Indian hand fasting that he hadn’t seen before, but he had learned was traditional to Parvati’s family. For his part, Marcus took it all in stride, happily gazing into the eyes of his bride, although his parents seemed a little out of place with the unfamiliar arrangements.

* * *

“That may have been the longest ceremony I’ve ever been to." Blaise leaned over and whispered. He wasn’t wrong. Draco wasn’t sure why they all couldn’t have sat, as he stood awkwardly near the front. At least they were now moving on towards the reception, where liquid libation would surely help everyone’s disposition.

Draco stood to the side with his usual entourage — Theo, Pansy and Blaise — as the guests moved through the reception line and into the Patil’s stately home where the reception was being held. It wasn’t nearly as large as the manor, but then again, what was?

Every now and then, an acquaintance of theirs would wander over to make small talk. Several took the opportunity to congratulate him on fulfilling his role in the ceremony — providing the rings. He struggled not to roll his eyes, what idiot would forget the wedding rings? He had only a few jobs as best man: to stand at the front, hand the minister the rings at the appropriate time, and to make a toast at the reception. The first two, he had completed without issue, and the time for the next would happen shortly. In any event, he was prepared.

He saw Harry Potter edging through the line and nodded when he caught his eye. The two had been partners in the DMLE for a while now, and it had worked wonders for their ability to get along.

“Who’s that with Potter?” Blaise questioned.

“Is that-" Draco started, spotting the larger than life curls on the woman standing next to Harry.

“Only one head of hair like that,” Pansy proclaimed.

“I haven’t seen her around in ages. Where’s she been?” he wondered aloud.

It was more curiosity than anything else. His academic rival — the one person who had bested him in nearly everything during their time in Hogwarts. Harry mentioned her from time to time, but their paths hadn’t crossed in years, possibly since finishing school.

Theo chimed in, “After school, she went off to America to study. Now I think she’s in France, working with the ministry over there. She doesn’t get home much.”

To the surprise of no one in the group, Theo was rather well-informed. Draco wouldn’t call him a gossip, because he didn’t share secrets indiscriminately. Instead, he hoarded them like treasures, dropping tidbits when they could most be appreciated. Draco wondered where he might have learned that bit of information. It sounded interesting; his inquisitive nature got the better of him. “What does she do?”

Pansy piped up, her voice filled with practiced boredom. “If you’re so interested, maybe you should ask her. Oh, there’s Neville. I should say hello.”

She gave them a wave and sauntered off.

“Longbottom? That’s new.”

“Well, you know her parents keep pushing her, wanting to know why she won’t settle down.” Blaise chimed in.

“And yours don’t?” Draco snorted. It was well-worn ground between them: their parents’ desire to have their lines continued and their pushback against it. Neither Draco nor Blaise had shown any sign of settling down; and while Theo seemed to have a less raucous social life, he, too, seemed to not be in any hurry to partner up.

* * *

Later, after way too much glad-handing, not enough to drink, and a halfway decent dinner, Draco stood to perform his other important duty. Once he had everyone's attention, he cleared his throat, cast a Sonorous charm and began.

“If you had asked me who Marcus would have ended up with while we were at Hogwarts, Parvati wouldn’t have even made the list.”

There were polite chuckles from the audience, wondering where he might be going, but Draco wasn’t worried.

“Marcus and Millie? Sure.

Or

Marcus and Pansy? Absolutely.

But Marcus and Parvati? Such a match never would have crossed my mind.”

He felt the bride shooting daggers at him with her eyes. She probably was regretting having selected him as their compromise choice for Best Man. He held the room for a moment with a dramatic pause before continuing.

“But, we’ve grown up, haven’t we. And things look different from where we sit, because I can tell you that Marcus and Parvati were meant to be.”

The guests let out a collective sigh that it wasn’t going to end up as one of _those_ awkward wedding speeches.

“When we were at school, it wouldn’t have worked because we were all still young and immature, and couldn’t fully appreciate what our schoolmates had to offer. Some of us were particularly nasty little shits.”

He raised his own hand in a gesture of self-deprecation and heard someone in the crowd, probably Potter, yell out, “Truth!”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression carefully nonchalant, before continuing.

“The _truth_ is, we weren’t ready. None of us were. We saw the world in black and white, or perhaps Red and Green. We thought we knew everything. We were wrong.

But, the good thing about it is, we grew up, and we had a chance to make it right. And while Marcus and Parvati may be the first of our inter-house unity projects to bear fruit, we can only hope that they won’t be the last.”

He turned to face the newlyweds.

“While I wouldn’t know anything about it, I’m told marriage isn’t easy. But, having the right person by your side makes all the difference in the world. And _that_ is something worth celebrating.

Please join me in raising a glass to the bride and groom.

To Parvati and Marcus. May your children be bold enough for Gryffindor, cunning enough for Slytherin, and wise enough to navigate between the two.”

The room erupted in a chorus of clanging glasses amid cries of “Here, here” and laughter, and Draco knew he had hit his mark.

He sat and Parvati leaned over and kissed his cheek, as her sister stood to speak. He could breathe easier now; his job was done.

Later, well after the dancing had started, Theo sidled up to him, with yet another glass of champagne in his hand.

“So, Granger… Is she your target for the evening?”

Draco’s head snapped so fast, it surprised him.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. What would make you say that?”

“Oh, maybe the fact that you’ve been staring at her all night.”

Draco frowned. Had he noticed that the brunette Gryffindor looked rather fit? Sure. And had his eyes wandered to where she was dancing with his partner once or twice? Perhaps. But, that was hardly “all night.”

“As you said yourself, Draco, things are different now. No one would think badly of you if you were. After all, she’s grown up quite nicely, wouldn’t you say?”

Theo was watching his reaction quite carefully.

“Think of it as another inter-house unity project.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling shagging these days?”

“Well, let’s face it. You can call it whatever you want. There’s little to no likelihood that Granger will give you the time of day, is there?”

Draco knew what Theo was doing, knew he was simply goading him on, but he couldn’t help rising to the challenge.

“Are you putting Galleons on the line, dear Mr. Nott?”

Theo pulled a small pouch from inside his robes, knowing his friend couldn’t resist.

“But of course.”

Fuck it. Draco downed the rest of his drink and stood. He was going to have to find a way to shag Granger by the end of the night — and if he was honest with himself, he was a little excited about the prospect.

He was more purposeful in watching Hermione after that. He put his powers of observation to work, trying to figure out what she was drinking and watching who she interacted with. He noticed how she threw her head back when she laughed, zeroing in on the sound of it. While she may not have been around recently, she seemed to fit right back in to things.

Although Draco invariably seemed to gravitate towards leggy blondes, since Theo had made the suggestion, he had let his mind wander thinking about how one particular curvy brunette might feel under him, and he found he wasn’t wholly opposed to the idea. He saw Hermione’s drink getting low and moved towards the bar to order her a refill, handing it to her just as she walked up.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Malfoy. I don’t have to worry about what’s in this, do I?”

He chuckled. With their history, it was inevitable that she would ask.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a big believer in inter-house unity these days.”

Hermione grinned in response and took a small sip of the drink he had handed her, giving him a look of surprise when she realized it was what she had already been drinking.

“I enjoyed your speech.”

Draco nodded in acknowledgement. “Much appreciated. How’ve you been, Granger? I can’t say that I’ve seen you around.”

She nodded. “Well, I tend to stay pretty busy, but I couldn’t miss this. Quite a match — Parvati and Marcus.”

“Yes, it’s amazing what Galleons can do.”

Hermione had been taking another sip of her drink at the moment he said that, and sputtered, her face darkening.

“That’s not nice. I thought he was your friend.”

“He is my friend. See -" He kept his tone light, pointing to his attire. “-best man, which means it’s my job to take the piss out of Marcus. Besides, he definitely punched above his weight to land Parvati.”

Hermione’s disposition relaxed once again.

“I’m surprised to hear you say that. I thought you Slytherin types were fairly particular about your choice of partner. Something about you all being God’s gift to women or something like that…”

“Nah, Granger, like I said, it’s all about inter-house unity these days. We’re all adults now. We’ve grown past the idiocy of our youth, at least I like to think so.” His voice trailed off, tacitly acknowledging the way he had tormented her about her blood status during their time at school.

She was still skeptical. “I guess I’m not used to seeing all of this ‘unity,’” she parroted, “although Harry says good things about you.”

“Oh? What does Potter have to say?”

“That you’re a good partner. That you’re different.” 

They stood there for a moment looking at each other, until she looked away and quickly shook her head, her eyes widening.

He turned his head and followed her line of sight to find Blaise and Ginny Weasley furiously snogging in a corner. That was new.

Draco shrugged. “As I said, we’ve all grown up, thankfully.”

“And so we have.” She turned back looked at him for a moment longer, her expression betraying none of her thoughts and then she picked up her glass to finish her drink.

“It was good to see you, Malfoy.”

Her voice was rather congenial given the history between them. He took that as a win.

“You too, Granger.”

He stood and watched Hermione as she walked away and his chance at Theo’s Galleons evaporated. He couldn’t even be upset though. It felt good to have a decent conversation with her, without the divisions of their youth, as if they were just regular schoolmates and everything that had happened between them hadn’t.

Fuck the bet. Granger wasn’t someone to stalk, and he knew he didn’t have a chance with her. What had he been thinking?

* * *

The next time he saw Hermione, he was walking back from the loo. At first glance, it appeared she was getting cozy with McLaggen — the bloke seemed rather forward. One of his arms was on the wall by her head, as if he was trying to box her in.

Draco was surprised to see her there, but as he went to pass them, he caught her eye and what he saw was a woman who was not happy with the situation she was in. He kept walking, but after two steps, he decided to double back and make sure she was okay. McLaggen didn’t have the best reputation with women, even he knew that. The look of relief on her face when she saw he was returning confirmed that he had made the right move.

He walked up beside her and slipped his arm around her nonchalantly, hoping she would play along and not make him look an idiot.

“Ah, there you are, Granger; I didn’t see you. McLaggen.” 

He nodded at the other man who was not as cordial in returning his greeting.

“Malfoy. Move along. You’re interrupting.”

“Am I now? Thanks for keeping Hermione company while I was in the loo.”

Hermione. It wouldn’t be believable if he kept calling her by her surname. The word felt foreign in his mouth, but not entirely uncomfortable.

Cormac looked between the two of them, decidedly confused and settled his gaze back on his quarry, as if daring her to confirm that she would willingly be with Malfoy.

“You’re here with him?”

“Well, not in so many…”

Leave it to Granger to not be able to lie, even to save her own arse.

Draco cut in. “Yes. Hermione is my date for the evening. So, thanks again, but I’ve got her now.”

Cormac didn’t look convinced, so Draco bent down and placed a kiss on the top of Granger’s head. The scent of vanilla filled his nose.

At least it seemed to convince Cormac to skulk off in search of someone else. Hermione slid out from his grasp and looked up at him gratefully.

“Thanks for that. You sounded quite convincing.”

“Well, I believe in the power of self-actualization. You know, if you want someone to believe you, you have to believe it yourself.”

Hermione looked bewildered. “What does that mean?”

“I dunno, but it sounded interesting.”

He grinned and the sound of her answering laugh made his breath catch. He’d never made Hermione Granger laugh before. He thought he might like to try to do it again.

“Actually, Draco,“ She pronounced his name slowly, as if trying it to see how it sounded. “Before Cormac cornered me, I was getting ready to call it a night.”

To his surprise, he found he wasn’t ready for her to go.

“Now, that’s a shame. I figure you owe me at least one dance for that rescue.”

Her answering smile suggested that she might not be so ready to leave, either.

“Well, I guess I can stay for one dance, since you saved me and all.”

Draco led her to the floor, thankful that they had reached the stage in the evening when the band was playing, rather than the orchestra, although the noise level wasn’t ideal for chatting.

It didn’t seem to matter, though, as he twirled her around. Eventually, he pulled her in much closer than they had been dancing before and found she fit quite well in his arms.

The music changed again, and he realized that she had stayed for much longer than the one dance she had promised him, not that he was complaining.

They were dancing rather closely now, and probably not on beat at all, but he was lost to the feel of the witch in his arms. He was trying to keep his hands at her waist, in a respectable location, but it was difficult to not let them drift down over the swell of her arse, particularly when her arms were draped around him and he could feel her fingers playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck.

He groaned as his cock sprung to life, clearly not caring that this was Granger he was dancing with, a woman so out of his league that she played a whole different game. He dropped his forehead to hers, wondering if she realized what she was doing to him, if she was feeling any of the same frustration he was.

What was this between them? Curiosity based on too many years on competing with each other? Did she have a bad boy complex she was looking to satisfy and thought he was a better mark than Cormac?

Hermione leaned in and whispered in his ear. “I’m staying upstairs, you know, if you want to tell me some more about that whole ‘inter-house unity’ thing.”

Had Granger just propositioned him? Suddenly, both his brain and his cock were incredibly alert. She did not need to tell him twice. He looked up and plotted their exit from the room, pulling her towards the main hallway, chuckling as he saw Blaise and Ginny still snogging in the corner. He guessed he might not be the only one getting lucky tonight.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, Hermione took the lead, dragging him into her room. She pulled her wand from her pocket and locked and silenced the room with one hand, while she started to divest him of his robes with the other.

“I’m not quiet.” She grinned, taking a hold of his tie to drag his mouth down to hers.

Their initial kiss was a mash-up of tongues and teeth, fueled by years of dislike, wonder, and perhaps on his part, begrudging admiration.

If Draco had ever thought Hermione Granger was a prudish swot, she quickly disabused him of that notion. She broke their kiss and stepped back from him and in one motion pulled her dress over her head, leaving herself in nothing but a lacy bra, knickers, and her heels.

He swallowed. She was fit, very, very fit. Unlike the lanky blonde he had woken up with, Hermione had curves in all the right places. She stood there eyeing him, probably wondering why he hadn’t moved to disrobe yet.

“Do I need to undress you, Draco? We are having sex, yes?”

She was so fucking matter of fact. His cock grew harder thinking about how he had missed knowing this side of her before now. She couldn’t have been like this when they were younger. Bossy? Yes. Self-assured? Of course. But had the woman in front of him shown this side while they were in school, he would have found a way to have her, his idiotic views on blood status, be damned.

There had been no rumours about her while they were at Hogwarts. Given his lack of interest, he had listened dispassionately when other boys at school talked about her saying she was unattainable and probably frigid. No, the development of the woman who stood before him must have happened after school; either that or she had been so secretive about her partners that the stories had never seen the light of day. Either way, he was very much looking forward to what they were about to do.

He snapped out of his daze as she sat down on the bed to take off her heels.

“No, leave those.”

She raised an eyebrow, but left them on, sitting with her legs crossed, dangling on the edge of the bed. 

He took his wand out of his pocket, casting a spell to quickly divest him of his robes, leaving him just in his pants.

“That’s efficient.” She laughed.

He shrugged and cast a contraceptive spell, before setting his wand on one of the bedside tables — an Auror couldn’t be caught without his wand after all, no matter the circumstances.

Then, he returned to her side and bent down to claim her lips once more.

“Where would you like to start, Hermione? Your wish is my command.”

She giggled, and it struck him as a most un-Granger like sound. “Oh, I have options?”

Draco wagged his eyebrows. “I aim to please.”

“Well, if you live up to the reputation you had at school, I have no doubt you will, particularly, given no one knew what they were doing back then.”

Or perhaps she wasn’t as innocent at school as he had thought.

“I can only speak for myself, but I didn’t have any complaints.”

“Well, then, I’m in for a treat.”

Who the fuck had witty repartee as foreplay? Most of the time he was either too drunk to care or he preferred his partner to keep their mouth shut or otherwise occupied. He found the back and forth with Hermione felt quite natural; she definitely gave as good as she got. As much as he was enjoying it, though, he decided it was time to shut her up. He nodded at her to lie back on the bed, and grabbed an ankle as she began to scoot upwards.

“Oh, no, I need you down here, Granger.”

“Oh,” was all Hermione managed, as he raised her leg and kissed the inside of her ankle. He was pleased to see she wasn’t entirely unaffected, her eyes watching him as he slid his lips down the inside of her leg. He kneeled at the end of the bed with her barely-clad cunt on display before him, and her chest heaving in anticipation. He balanced one leg on his shoulder and slipped a finger under her knickers to stroke her slit.

Hermione had fallen silent, but he watched her squirm, wondering what he might do next.

“Tell me, Granger. What do you like? What gets you off?”

He hooked his fingers under the sides of her knickers and slowly dragged them down, carefully feeding them over one of her legs then the other, while his eyes stayed locked on hers. It was an unexpectedly intimate moment between the two of them.

It wasn’t simply that she was now exposed to him, no, it was much more than that, because he was Draco Malfoy and she was Hermione Granger and there was no possible scenario where she would have trusted him to do what he was now offering. Yet, here they were.

He heard her exhale before she responded.

“I tend to like men who use their mouths for more constructive purposes than talking.”

“Cheeky witch.” He growled at her before skipping any further pretense and diving straight between her legs to lap at her moist slit before focusing his attention on her clit. She writhed above him. Her eyes were closed, but her hands massaged her breasts, as he carefully worked her.

He listened for her sounds, curious what she had meant by her earlier statement. He wanted to have her howling eventually, but he’d start by bringing her off this way before he did anything else. He knew he only had one chance to get it right, sure that this situation would never happen again. Besides, he figured that he owed her, given the prick he had been when they were younger.

His tongue flicked her clit back and forth, before he sucked on it gently. Hermione let out a loud moan that went straight to his cock, and he took that as a signal to slip a finger into her, feeling her wetness around him.

Draco would need to thank Theo for putting this idea in his head; the wank-bank material alone was at least worth a good bottle of firewhisky. He continued his ministrations, adding a second finger, and pumping them in and out while his tongue continued to play with her clit. He decided to test her tolerance and lightly bit down on the sensitive nub. She howled and her legs suddenly came up and clamped his head.

“Oh, sorry,” she managed, as she relaxed her legs again. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

He lifted his lips for a moment. “You okay?”

“Mmm…don’t stop.”

Her hand reached down and carded through his hair, and he resumed his efforts.

Before long he felt her begin to flutter around him, and indeed, she did get louder.

“Oh…close. Yes, there. Ahh…”

In all the years Draco had known Hermione Granger, he had never known her to be at a loss for words, but she seemed to have lost her capacity for complex speech.She gripped his hair more tightly, pressing his face into her as she got closer to her climax.

“Fuck, yes! Please!”

Her back arched off of the bed as she came around his fingers, with her legs still draped over his shoulders. He slowed his rhythm, coaxing her through her orgasm, not taking his eyes off of her as she flung a hand over her forehead and rode his tongue and fingers through each wave.

As she recovered, Draco kissed her thigh and lifted each leg to divest her of her heels. She took a deep breath, but her directions remained short.

“Up, now. Pants off,” she commanded and he willingly obliged.

He joined her at the top of the bed, and she greedily kissed him, unafraid to taste herself on his tongue. He rested his weight on his forearms, as she raked her nails lightly up and down his back, creating a most intense sensation.

“Gods, that was good. Exactly what I needed,” she whispered after he had moved to nuzzle her neck, his cock thick and heavy between them, with the promise of things to come.

“I’m not done with you yet, witch,” he responded, pulling back from her just enough to see a determined look in her eyes.

“Oh no, this one is mine,” she claimed, biting her lip.

He didn’t have a moment to react before she pushed him off of her and flipped them so she could straddle his hips, instead. She shook out her hair as she sat on him, but didn’t move. He could only see a hint of her dusky nipples through the lace of the bra she still wore. He reached out a hand to touch one, but she scolded him until his hand was on the mattress again.

“Tell me, Draco, what do you like? What gets you off?” 

She parroted his words back to him with a smirk, as she wrapped a hand around his cock and stroked him up and down.

An expletive slipped from his mouth as she brushed a finger over his weeping tip; her hand felt good, but not as good as it would feel inside her.

Thankfully, she seemed to feel the same way, as she soon positioned herself over him and slowly lowered herself onto his waiting cock, both of them hissing at the sensation.

She stayed still for a moment, adjusting to the size of him, and he brought a hand up to guide her hips.

Her eyes flashed and she shook her head in warning.

“No hands, Draco. Not yet.”

He frowned.

She arched an eyebrow and wiggled her bum to make clear how very much she was in control of the moment.

“My turn, my rules. Keep your hands to yourself for now. You can be a good boy, can’t you?”

She was serious. This was a new experience for Draco, as he was used to being the one orchestrating his various escapades, but leave it to Granger to be just as dominant in the bedroom, insisting on this arrangement of taking turns in giving and receiving pleasure.

She leaned down and kissed him, her tongue swirling in his mouth, as she placed her hands on his chest and used the leverage to rock back and forth. The feeling of her wet heat around him had him groaning, but his frustration in not being able to touch her only increased his focus on what it felt like for her to ride him and watch her as her breasts bounced, spilling over the lace cups.

What fresh hell was this that she had devised for him, being able to look at, but not touch her, as she bounced on his cock? Just the thought induced all kinds of feelings in him, frustration, but also a heightened sense of pleasure. He was focused on every move she made, given he could make none of his own.

And how long could she possibly keep this up?

His mind drifted to partners whose hands he had restrained before, either with a tie or a sticking charm. No one had ever done it to him, though, and he found the change in perspective both maddening and incredibly erotic, as he struggled to control his hands, wrapping his fists into the sheet under him.

She continued the sweet, slow torture, both driving him mad and chasing her own pleasure until her head lolled to the side and her motions became erratic.

“Now, Draco,” she instructed, and his hands flew to her hips to take over setting the rhythm, sliding her on and off of his cock, careful that her clit continued to feel the friction between them. He sighed as Hermione’shands reached back to finally take off that infernal bra and let her tits, her glorious tits, bounce free.

It wouldn’t take him long to come, watching her like this, watching her play with her breasts, her fingers tracing and pulling at her nipples, and feeling her move around him.

“Harder,” she cried, and he gripped her hips more tightly so he could snap his own against hers, rising from the bed, as he did.

Her moans started to become more forceful, and he felt the familiar tension coiling within himself.

“Yes. More.”

Her monosyllabic interjections only spurred him on, and as soon as he heard her cry out, he let himself go, finding his release alongside hers.

The two lay panting; her wild curls tumbling over her shoulder, as she sat on him still. She reached down and kissed him, and this time it felt quite sweet, not about dominance, but perhaps an echo of their shared connection. He chased her lips when he felt her break the kiss, not quite ready to let it go.

“What’s next?” she grinned.

“Next? Give me a minute, woman.”

“I’m well aware you need a moment. I’m just thinking ahead.”

Fuck.

Hermione slid off of his softening member and lay beside him, lazily tracing a finger around one of his nipples.

“I think I might really like it if you take me from behind, like really pound me into me.”

His eyes widened and his cock took note as well.

He reached over and kissed her mouth, before trailing his lips down to the breasts he had been aching to play with.

“Your wish is my command.”

“Is it, though? All of them?”

He groaned, his cock was already hardening at the words coming out of her mouth.

He nipped at one of her nipples before lifting his head to look at her once more.

“As many as you wish to share with me," he responded.

“Oh, good, because I wouldn’t say no to a bit of spanking, if you know what you’re doing, and you seem to.”

The look she gave him almost seemed to be a dare, as if the question on the table was whether Draco was capable of handling her. He wasn’t sure that it was misplaced; this night was so completely unexpected. He was thankful for the stamina that years on the broom had given him, realizing he might need every bit of it tonight, and he promised himself that by the end of it, both of them would be well and truly satisfied.

After several more rounds of discovery, the pair started drifting into an easy sleep, sated as they were in each other. He was pleased to find that she was as quick a study in the bedroom as she had been in the classroom, both of them having equally worked to learn each other. 

Typically, he was not a cuddler, but it felt natural to pull Hermione into him and nuzzled his face in her curls, breathing in the scent that was uniquely her. For once, his mind had not turned to the inevitable morning-after awkwardness, hoping that his bedmate would discreetly see herself out of his flat.

“You’re incredible, Granger.”

She yawned a sleepy reply.

“You kept me up too late, but you’re not half bad yourself.”

Draco chuckled in response as his eyes finally fell closed with his hand wrapped tightly around Hermione, like his namesake guarding his treasure. He had no idea what time it was, or if Theo had even been looking for him, given he hadn’t stopped to say good night. He was only sure of one thing — Hermione Granger was a fantastic fuck.

* * *

The first thing Draco noticed the next morning was that he felt warmth on his skin, almost like sunlight, which was impossible, because he always made sure that the curtains were closed before falling into bed. But then, this didn’t quite feel like his bed.

His brain began to make sense of the night before as it came back to life. There was a wedding. Marcus’s wedding. Some drinking - not too much. Dancing, again.

With Granger?

And then…

His brain must have short-circuited, because all he could think was that had been the best night of sex he had ever had.

With Hermione Granger?

Was that even possible?

He heard a rustling in the room and chanced opening his eyes.

At the foot of the bed, Granger was already dressed. She stood before the mirror, twisting her hair behind her. He much preferred the wild curls that had been splayed over the pillows at several points last night. He remembered thinking that it made her look like a goddess.

Her eyes caught his in the mirror.

“Good morning. Glad you’re up. Much easier to speak with you than to leave you a note, I think. I’m off; my portkey leaves in three minutes.”

“Three minutes?”

“Yes, I’m headed back to Paris. Again, thanks for last night. I’m really glad we were able to clear the air between us.”

“Clear the air?” he repeated again. Is that what that had been?

She laughed — it was different than last night. This laugh was easy and unbothered, the type of laugh that had been reserved for her friends at school, never for him. Had they grown up that much?

“You’re funny in the mornings. And your hair is not as coiffed when you first wake up. I like it.”

He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs and ran his hand through his hair, trying to give it some semblance of order. He was still struggling to understand what was happening. He was usually the one to wake up first. He was the one to make clear that the tryst was over.

But here he was, having just woken after a night of fantastic shagging with someone who hadn’t been on his radar at all. Twenty-four hours ago, he never would have thought Hermione Granger would have even given him the time of day. She was acting like it was all no big deal; like the coupling of the Slytherin Prince and the Gryffindor Princess wasn’t enough to bring the magical world to its knees. Like his cock hadn’t already sprung to life thinking about how very much he’d like to do it again.

Meanwhile, he now had what — a minute left with her? And what was this odd feeling in his chest? He wasn’t particularly ready to let her go. This felt decidedly unfinished to him.

He saw the portkey on the dresser begin to glow at the same time she did.

“That’s my ride.” 

He simply stared at her, unsure what to do or say.

“Goodbye, Draco.” She smiled as she put her hand on the portkey and was whisked away.


	2. Chapter 2

The knock at his door was familiar. “Oi! We’ve got places to be.”

At least this time he didn’t have anyone to kick out of his bed.

It turned out that Prewett women were fertile — really fertile, even half Prewetts. Not long after Marcus and Parvati’s wedding, Blaise had shown up at Draco and Theo’s flat with a bottle of champagne in his hand.

“I’m gonna be a dad!” he said while swaying.

Draco had jumped into action, steering him to the couch.

It turned out that was the second bottle he’d had.

Neither Blaise nor Ginny had seen a reason to wait to tie the knot after finding out they were expecting. Given the two had been shagging like rabbits since connecting at Marcus and Parvati’s wedding, it was bound to happen sooner or later. However, Ginny being “in the family way” hadn’t meant that their love would be any less enthusiastically celebrated by them or their families. She was the only Weasley daughter, after all. And as everyone knew, Blaise’s mother loved few things more than throwing a wedding, although typically they were her own.

The result was a spectacle that had been put together in a very short period of time, but you wouldn’t have realized it from anything other than the short turn around on the RSVP cards. Blaise and his lovely bride gazed into each other’s eyes as they tied their lives together; and as soon as the ceremony was completed and the minister declared them bonded, they treated the entire audience to five minutes of tongue fucking that no one had needed to see.

It was an odd thing to think of Blaise as someone who was married and soon to be a father, when Draco felt so far from ready for such obligations. He liked his life. It was… uncomplicated. He did what he wanted and who he wanted when he wanted. He preferred it like that, or he had, until a maelstrom named Hermione Granger who had so completely turned his head that he wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore.

Draco was looking forward to seeing her today, so he would finally have the clarity that the fact that she was still on his mind after all these weeks was strictly about the sex. He was sure it was — either it had been _that_ good, or the simple fact that they had shagged had induced some mild euphoria in him that he was now applying to the witch, herself. Either was possible. He just needed to see her, so he could get her out of his mind and move on with his life.

As usual, Harry had been tightlipped about her comings and goings, but that was to be expected. It wasn’t as if Draco could come out and tell his partner why he was curious about whether Granger was in town or not, and he figured from Harry not having hauled off and punched him in the face that she had kept their tryst to herself.

He was a little surprised that Hermione hadn’t been in the wedding party. Ginny had asked Loony Lovegood to stand for her instead, while Theo did the honours for Blaise. That was a potentially awkward moment that he had been glad to avoid, and it left him free to sit in the audience this time, trying to figure out where Granger might be hiding.

It turned out that Hermione found him, standing by one of the freely flowing bars at the reception. The Weasleys had clearly opened their vaults for their only daughter’s wedding — although the spirits might have been the Zabinis’ contribution. It was never a Zabini party without copious amounts of alcohol, never mind the bride was currently unable to partake.

“Draco.”

His breath caught as he turned towards her.

“How’ve you been?”

“No complaints. Good to see you, Granger.”

“Hermione.”

He nodded, correcting himself. “Hermione.”

He chanced a look down, finding it all too easy to recall what was under her dress, as images of their night together came back unbidden. Now that she was here in front of him, he realized he wasn’t sure what to say.

“How’s Paris?”

“Still there.” She chuckled.

He nodded. “It’s really good to see you.”

He felt like an idiot; he had already said that. 

“I thought about reaching out to you, you know. Potter wasn’t exactly forthcoming about whether you were back in Britain-”

“Ah, there’s my lovely fiancée.” Anthony Goldstein stepped next to Hermione and wound his arm around her waist. The move was so reminiscent of what Draco had done to McLaggen he couldn’t help but notice the similarity.

“Malfoy.”

 _Fiancée?_ Draco was stunned, but recovered quickly.

“Congrats Goldstein. You’re a lucky bastard.”

“Don’t I know it,” the former Ravenclaw grinned and turned, guiding Hermione elsewhere — away from him.

He stood there gobsmacked. He hadn’t noticed a ring. Potter hadn’t mentioned anything, not that he would have known to, nor had he seen an announcement that she had gotten engaged, which wasn’t surprising since Granger preferred to keep a low profile.

It felt a bit like someone had punched him in the gut given he had been waiting to see her, waiting to see if there might be something to explore between them. Obviously, he was the only one who had been thinking that.

He quickly downed his whiskey and motioned for another.

Theo sidled over with a concerned look in his eyes. “You okay? You don’t look yourself; and what’s this? Your third Ogden’s already? Am I going to have to carry you home?”

Theo knew him too well. He decided to give him a slice of the truth.

“I was just thinking. There have been so many weddings, but…“ His voice trailed off, trying to find the right words. But what? The one woman he thought he might be interested in was off the market, and he hadn’t even known.

“Draco, please. Everyone knows you’re the eternal bachelor. No woman can hold you down.”

“Maybe that’s it though. Maybe one woman could.”

Theo laughed. “As if. What? Don’t tell me you’ve caught feelings all of a sudden?”

He looked at Draco and followed his line of sight to where Granger was standing, Goldstein’s arm still around her, as they chatted amicably with Ron Weasley and Susan Bones.

“You’re joking. Granger? You never collected on the bet.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t win it. And anyways, clearly it’s nothing.”

He downed the whiskey and stalked away from the bar. He needed to find something new to do, or maybe someone.

* * *

Whoever had arranged the seating chart for the reception had a sick sense of humour. That was all he could think as he quickly scanned the list of his assigned table mates. There was no way the seating arrangement could have been anything but purposeful. Even fate wouldn’t be quite so cruel.

Instead of being seated at the fun table where Theo, Potter, Pansy, Longbottom, Granger and even sodding Goldstein would be, it looked like he had been placed at the lonely hearts and other miscellaneous guests table. He could hear his friends chatting as he walked towards the table at which only awkwardness could await.

The only empty seat was next to Astoria Greengrass. That was unfortunate. She was someone he preferred to avoid. Their families had pushed them together when they were younger, but she had lost patience with his inability to commit. He had used the excuse of Auror training and establishing his career, when truthfully, Astoria just wasn’t very interesting.

She was lovely and proper. She would make a wonderful Pureblood wife, but there were no sparks between them. Draco had decided he’d rather enjoy his life than marry someone simply because it was expected that the Malfoy heir would take a bride and settle down early, as so many generations had before him.

He waved a general hello as he sat down at the table. Millicent Bulstrode, his old housemate, looked pleased to see him, but the others, a girl who had finished a year ahead of them, who he had definitely spent time with in a broom cupboard, and Agnes Monkleigh, who he had briefly dated after breaking up with Astoria, did not look pleased.

He introduced himself to the blonde across the table, and if judging by her reaction, he guessed he should have already known her name.

“We’ve met, Draco. Serina.” She answered coldly.

Ah, Cellophane! That was her name. He hadn’t been that far off.

Someone must have thought they were doing him a favor by seating him with so many single women, but it was particularly Dickensian — the table of shags past. At least Astoria had a date tonight. He didn’t think he was up for her extolling her disappointment in him yet again.

What he didn’t need was for any of the others to realize their connection. That might be mortification gone too far.

Of course that turned out to be more luck than Draco was currently allotted.

Serina spoke up first. “So, Draco, funny seeing you here. I kept waiting for your Floo call.”

To his right, Astoria bit back a laugh.

“Oh, dear, you got to ‘ride the dragon,’ too?” Agnes chuckled.

“Ha - does he really still say that?” Millie chimed in.

For his part, Astoria’s date looked sympathetic, but also rather glad to not be the subject of this particular conversation.

“Well, it’s not like I didn’t go in expecting it, given his reputation. At least, the sex wasn’t bad,” Serina offered.

What reputation? And more importantly, wasn’t bad? _The sex wasn’t bad?_ He may be self-centered, but he wasn’t a selfish lover. He wanted to hear more about what exactly was so unsatisfactory, other than the way he had shuffled her out of his flat in the morning and had conveniently forgotten to call later. He couldn’t exactly get in touch with her if he hadn’t even remembered her name — not that she needed to know that.

All through dinner the women at the table traded stories and talked about him like he wasn’t sitting right there with them. He wanted to disappear. He didn’t regret his behaviour, not exactly, but he wouldn’t say that sitting at a tribunal of his past dalliances was anywhere on his goal list.

He could hear the conversation and laughter wafting over from the table where his friends sat, which further darkened his mood. He waited an appropriate amount of time after dinner before excusing himself from the table; anything to get away before one of them shared more embarrassing stories.

Everyone had been young once. Everyone had to figure out how things worked somehow. It wasn’t his fault that the sex education curriculum at Hogwarts was so sorely lacking.

* * *

As he stood at the edge of the tent sulking, Astoria walked by and stopped, her date was nowhere in sight. He sighed. Clearly, his humiliation was not yet complete.

“Draco.”

“Tori.”

“It was good to see you.”

She placed her hand on his arm.

He nodded in response.

She dropped her hand, bristling at his unwillingness to engage. He remembered that was one of the problems between them. She had complained he was aloof and unattached, when in actuality, he was just profoundly uninterested in her.

“I worry about you Draco - everyone else is settling down, but not you, never you. One of these days you’ll look up to find everyone’s taken, and then what will you do?”

Astoria walked off and left him standing there brooding, not about her words so much as the thought that he might have missed a chance with someone whom he had found interesting. How ironic then, that at that moment, he saw Granger and her fiancé slip out of the tent. Astoria had been right about one thing — it was already too late.

* * *

Although the dancing was now in full swing, Draco stood outside, getting some air. It was too early in the night for him to leave Blaise’s wedding, but he felt rather soured on the whole thing, mad at himself more than anything that he had made more of one night than he should have. Granger had only gotten under his skin because he had let it happen, but now that he knew she was unavailable, he could set himself to rights and go back to his normal modus operandi, even if it meant he might get called out at a wedding every now and then.

It was much quieter outside; he wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. Either he had too much time alone with his thoughts or too much time alone at the bar. For now, he preferred the fresh air.

But then he saw Granger walking across the lawn, walking in his direction.

“I thought you had left already.”

“No, not yet. I sent Anthony home, he was done for; but I couldn’t leave that early, the Weasleys are like my second family.”

Hermione stood there looking at him curiously, as if he was an Arithmancy equation she needed to puzzle out.

“Walk with me? I’m not ready to head back inside quite yet.”

He nodded. He was an idiot, a glutton for punishment, but he’d do anything to spend a few minutes with her to placate the strange yearning he was feeling.

She led him over to what looked like the Weasleys garden. The night was warm, so he shucked off his outer robe and placed it on the garden wall before Hermione hopped up onto it to sit and then he sat beside her — close enough to be social, but not so close as to be awkward. She seemed bemused by his attempt at chivalry. From where they sat, they could no longer see the tent and could only faintly hear the sounds of the ongoing merriment.

For a few minutes they sat in silence beside each other, watching as a parade of gnomes trudged through the rows, rubbing their heads and grumbling.

He wanted to talk to her, wanted to hear her voice.

“Lovely wedding, huh?”

Hermione burst out laughing.

“That’s what we’re talking about?”

He chuckled, “It is the topic at hand.”

“Well, they seem pretty well-suited, I guess; or at least they have the same hormone levels.”

His body shivered, acknowledging the truth of her statement.

“You don’t have to tell me, I’ve been a witness to far more of their relationship than I ever wanted.”

Neither Blaise nor Red were particularly discrete. Draco and Theo had decided that exhibitionism must be one of their mutual kinks. It was as if someone cast a permanent sticking charm between them. If they were both in the same room, there would be touching and kissing, and eventually calls for them to “for the love of all that is holy, please get a room.” It didn’t seem to matter where they were: The Leaky, the office, his living room, all seemed to be equally fair game.

“So, are you and Ginny still close?”

“Not as much. I mean we’re close, but we’re not besties. I’m not really around enough to hold that position, but the Weasleys took me in after the war, after I lost my parents-”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

It popped out reflexively. What an idiot. He hadn’t known.

Hermione shook her head. “Oh, they’re not dead. They live in Australia, but they don’t know who I am. I wiped their memories and sent them away to keep them safe during the war.”

“Fuck, Granger.”

Was there nothing that this woman hadn’t done? Was there no limit to her badassery?

He noticed her eyes were a little misty.

“I’m sorry you had to do that. You did the right thing, you know.”

“I know,” she nodded courtly, “but that doesn’t make it easier, living with the consequences and all… Yeah, you’d know about that, wouldn’t you?”

Hermione looked up at him but didn’t say anything more. She didn’t need to; both of them knew what she had meant, what he had gone through, a boy forced to do things he hadn’t wanted to in a misguided effort to keep his mother safe.

She leaned into his shoulder and he put his arm around her as they sat in silence again. She fit into his side just perfectly, and for the moment it seemed natural for the failed junior Death Eater and the War Hero to sit quietly beside each other, as if their past wasn’t littered with the scars of their animosity. But hadn’t their last meeting been different. Hadn’t it shown them both that there might be a chance for more between them?

He wondered what she was thinking. He didn’t want to move, lest the moment be broken, but she wasn’t his. Better to acknowledge the elephant in the room, given it was currently sitting on his chest.

“So, you and Goldstein, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Has he convinced you to move back to Britain?”

“Not yet, but I will, one of these days.”

He pulled her close and kissed her hair.

“Congrats, Granger.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “I thought it was Hermione.”

He gulped. Here in the moonlight, she looked ethereal. Unlike at the last wedding, she had worn her hair down today — the hair he had so often teased her about when they were younger now hung in thick curls. He touched one of the soft curls with his hand and pulled it down gently before releasing it, never taking his eyes off of her.

She reached up and kissed him. It was a simple kiss; he wasn’t sure what she meant by it, but he couldn’t just leave it there.

He kissed her back and this time, neither seemed ready to break apart, to let it end. He claimed her mouth, as she opened her lips and let his tongue slip inside. Their kiss became more heated, both of them equally involved in the give and take. Suddenly, Hermione was climbing onto his lap as he continued to kiss her, and he’d be damned if he’d let this opportunity slip away, engagement or not. Here, now, it was just the two of them and Hermione seemed as lost in the moment as he was.

Her dress had ridden up as she straddled him, and he slipped his hands under it, to grab her hips and pull her even closer to him. There was no doubt she could feel how hard he was, how much he wanted her. She groaned and rocked against him, both of them lost to the sensation. It wasn’t enough for him, but he would take what he could get.

He took one of his hands from her waist and used it to palm her breasts through the thin material of her dress as she continued to ride him, finding her nipples and tweaking them. She didn’t seem to mind. Rather, the noises coming from her seemed to indicate she was rather appreciative.

When she added a swivel at the end of her movement, Draco felt like he had lost the plot for a moment. He wanted more of her, he wanted to give her everything; he wanted to watch her come undone again. He slipped his hand under her dress so he could stroke her with less between them. He found her knickers were already soaked and slid them aside, so he could feel her heat directly. She began to ride his hand instead of him, slipping up and down his fingers, as his thumb circled her clit.

Gods, she was glorious. The only downside was that riding his fingers was a poor substitute for her riding him, but he intensified his ministrations as he felt her begin to clench around him, satisfied to at least bring her to completion. She arched her body into him and threw her head back with a cry that he was sure would have been heard, if there wasn’t plenty of noise already coming from the tent.

Hermione seemed to clue into his quandary as he sat still, but rock hard, under her. While Draco hoped she might reciprocate, he didn’t expect it; but as she recovered from her orgasm, she moved to unbuckle his belt and unfasten his trousers. He removed his hand and lifted it to his mouth, anxious to taste her once again. As he put his fingers to his mouth, she leaned in to kiss him, helping clean his fingers, the taste of her mingling between them. Without breaking their kiss, she then raised herself up on her knees and reached between them to pull down the top of his pants before lowering herself onto his waiting member.

Draco hadn’t quite seen that coming, as lost in the kiss as he had been. He knew she had exposed him, and had been holding out hope she might reciprocate with a hand job to relieve him of his misery, but he had not expected to feel her wet heat around him again. He involuntarily cried out at how good it felt, hearing the echoes of his desire through her groan as well. It was like muscle memory, the feeling of her around him and in his arms was one he would not soon forget. They were both still for a moment before Hermione reached for his shoulders and began rocking once again, this time with a different intensity.

This right here, this level of combustibility between them, her unabashedly take charge attitude, he hadn’t realized exactly how much he had missed this since their encounter three months ago. Draco now realized he had been chasing this feeling, but coming up empty. But here, sitting on a stone wall outside the wedding of each of their friends, this moment felt more honest, more real than almost anything. He would gladly be a junkie if she were his drug. He wished he had thought to cast a cushioning charm before sitting, but he certainly wasn’t going to stop to do so.

He was an idiot. They could have been doing this for years, had he not had his head up his arse, believing the rubbish his parents had been spewing.

He kept his hands wrapped around her back, holding her securely, as she set the rhythm for them. She found a movement that took what she needed, while it gave him what he so desperately wanted. When her motions became erratic, he took over, using his arms to guide her, rocking her hips back and forth, bringing both of them to completion. Hermione buried her head in his shoulder and keened, and he gripped her hips tight to him as he came, feeling awed once again that he had had the chance to experience her like this, free and unbidden.

Draco wondered what she was thinking, as they sat intertwined with each other, each of their heads resting on each others’ shoulders, trying to catch their breath. He nuzzled his nose into Hermione’s hair, kissing her neck tenderly, trying to convey what he was feeling through his actions.

He felt her lean into him, as if she enjoyed the sensation, as if maybe she felt something between them, too. He gripped her more tightly, willing his rapidly-softening cock to stay inside her, to keep them connected just a little bit longer.

“Hermione!”

They both heard a voice call in the distance. It sounded like Weasley. He felt her body tense and knew his time with her was coming to an end.

“Ugh. Rotten timing.” Hermione slid off his lap and stood, putting a hand out when she found she had stood a little too quickly after her release. She chuckled, and he reached to steady her, while her free hand slipped into her pocket. She found her wand and used it to fix her curls and smooth her dress. Her lips were swollen and he was sure her cheeks would still be warm, but the night air would take care of that soon enough.

When she was satisfied that she was set to rights, she looked at him with that curious expression again, her head tilted to the side. Maybe she was as surprised by what had just happened as he was. Maybe she felt some of his confusion bundled equally with wonder and perhaps a tinge of regret. But she wouldn’t, would she? She had nothing to regret, nothing to be ashamed of, as he did. She was Hermione _fucking_ Granger, and now that he knew even a little bit of the woman behind the name, he was even more interested in getting to know her, but for that cock-block of a fiancé, Goldstein.

Draco wondered what he should say, what he might do to convince her that there was something between them that was worthy of exploration, although he knew how ridiculous that would sound coming out of his mouth to the woman he had taken pleasure to make feel uncomfortable and unwelcome when they were younger, the woman who had been tortured on the floor of his childhood home. Perhaps this was his penance, then, to know the taste of her, but to never have her.

She reached down and kissed him on the cheek; her hand smoothed his hair back from his forehead and she stepped away to find Ron. Meanwhile Draco sat stunned, his trousers still open and his cock covered in their combined essences, as Hermione headed back towards the party looking none the worse for wear, as if her world hadn’t been blown wide open again, like his had.

Timing, indeed.


	3. Chapter 3

What was the appropriate wedding gift for someone who you couldn’t get out of your mind? One that struck the right balance of: I’m happy for you but I think I’d be a much better choice.

Because that’s what he needed. He wasn’t sure what he had thought — that after their last tryst, she might seek him out, leave her fiancé and take up with him instead. That was nothing but folly, and any such idea had been dashed once he’d received an invitation to the wedding.

And the fact that was actually planning on attending? Clearly, he was a glutton for punishment. But what else could he do?

That’s what had brought him to Diagon Alley this early on a Saturday. He wasn’t used to being awake at this time of the morning when he didn’t have to be at work. Nonetheless, here he was. Apparently it was easier to start the day, when you hadn’t been up half the night drinking to excess and shagging whatever random bint you had decided to bring home. He wasn’t sure he had turned over a new leaf, but the meaningless encounters didn’t seem to be as interesting.

He dipped into Obscurus Books. He had an idea — but it wasn’t something that Flourish and Blotts would carry. 

He went directly to the counter, knowing he would need some help.

“Excuse me. I’m looking for a first edition of Hogwarts: a History.”

There was nothing that said that the present had to be for _both_ the bride and groom. And, he figured Hermione would appreciate a gift like that far more than monogrammed hand towels.

“Well, that’s a rather rare book, Mr. Malfoy.”

“I understand. Can you help or should I take my business elsewhere?”

He had no interest in playing games. Either they had it or they could get it, it was simply a matter of Galleons. He knew there was one at the Manor, but some Malfoy down the line might not appreciate him giving it away; however, if these people couldn’t find it for him, it remained an option.

The clerk retreated into the back room. He looked around the small book shop. It was rather dusty and cramped, filled with stacks of books.

The clang of the bell drew his attention to the door as someone else entered the crowded store. His face blanched, as he realized that it was the last person he needed to see at the moment.

“Draco, how funny to run into you.”

“Is it though? Because I figure it’s not wholly unexpected to run into Hermione Granger in a bookshop.”

She laughed openly and he found himself captivated by her once more.

“Are you free?”

He held up a finger and turned back to the counter looking for the clerk, hoping the man wouldn’t suddenly appear either brandishing the book or talking about it.

He called into the back. “I’ve got to step away, but I’ll come back. I need you to find it, please. It’s important.”

He turned to face her.

“It appears I am.”

Her brow furrowed for a moment.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

He waved her off.

“You didn’t. It was nothing that I can’t deal with another day.”

The smile came back — the one that lit up her whole face.

“Oh, good. I need your help.”

She took his hand and started walking through Diagon Alley. He followed obediently, curious about where they were headed; she seemed to be a woman on a mission.

When they reached the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione stopped suddenly and looked him up and down. “Oh, we’ll need to change these.” She took her wand and transfigured his robes into casual muggle clothing. It wasn’t unlike something he would have chosen himself, had he known that was where the day was leading him. Then, she led him out into muggle London.

They walked to the end of the block and she hailed a black cab and ducked inside, gesturing for him to follow. She leaned forward and gave the driver an address before turning towards Draco. She looked over at him, as if she expected he might be uncomfortable.

“Sorry, I guess I should have given you more of a heads up.”

“No worries. I’m happy to be along for the ride. What gives?”

“Oh, I’m in need of another opinion and yours will do nicely." She eyed him carefully. "You seem quite unbothered by all of this.”

“Should I be? I’ve spent enough time in muggle London. It’s not that challenging.”

Hermione looked thoughtful. “I can’t seem to get Anthony to take an interest.”

“Well, that’s his loss then, isn’t it?”

They pulled up in front of a shop with women’s dresses in the windows: bejeweled and frilly white dresses. He realized with some dawning horror that it was a bridal shop. What would possess her to bring him here?

She didn’t seem to notice his discomfort and began to lead him into the store, but he hung back a step.

“Uh, Granger. Wouldn’t you rather have your girlfriends with you for this?”

She was unphased.

“Already did that. It came down to three, but I need to make the final decision. That’s where you come in. You’re far enough removed that I trust you to be honest.”

Hermione Granger trusted him. Now those were words he never expected to hear.

He rubbed the back of his neck and followed her inside.

But was he removed? That was less clear.

They weren’t anything to each other. A couple of conversations and two mind-blowing shags did not a relationship make. But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that he felt something for the wild-haired woman in front of him.

Hermione motioned for him to sit, so he did, while she disappeared behind a curtain with an attendant bustling behind her.

He’d known her since he was eleven. And while those early years weren’t always good, it didn’t mean that he didn’t notice her — that he didn’t see her. It was hard not to. It was hard to miss her, with her hand in the air every two minutes, nearly leaping off her seat to answer a question. Each time he had rolled his eyes, quick to condemn her, when in actuality, he admired her persistence and the way she was absolutely unbothered by the snickers of her classmates. It was as if she was in pursuit of knowledge for the sake of it, rather than being worried about what anyone else thought; and it seemed that she had carried that same sense of self-confidence into her adult life.

While he had always known she was intelligent, he had learned over the course of their brief interactions that she had a quick wit, and had grown into quite a looker. It appeared she was a good friend to those she held close, but hated the limelight.

And, she was a fantastic shag — one who had him thinking less about serial dating and more about why he wasn’t ready to settle down.

But what she wasn’t, was his, which made his whole line of thinking absolutely irrelevant.

She stepped out in one of the tulle monstrosities and Draco worked to quickly school his face before laughing.

She caught him, though, and chuckled also.

“This one was a test. Just wanted to make sure you were paying attention. Good.”

Thank the gods. He assumed that Granger had better taste than that, unless the bridal style she was going for was fairy princess, but Granger was no fairy princess. She was perfectly capable of rescuing herself; in fact, if all the stories Potter told about their school days were true, she was the one who had kept everyone else alive. She was a badass, and he could no more see her wearing mounds of tulle than he could see her hosting a society garden party.

The second dress was much more her style. He nodded in approval, although the sequins seemed a little flashy for the woman who shunned the spotlight. He guessed that it didn’t matter — on your wedding day, you couldn’t really avoid it.

When he saw her in the third dress, she took his breath away. He couldn’t look away from her. The dress was simple and elegant and seeing her in it did things to him that he didn’t quite understand.

“That’s the one.”

“Are you sure?”

She looked a bit uneasy and unsure, almost awkward; she looked him in the eye, as if she was searching for something, trying to see if he was serious. He was surprised to see her expression, such a change from the take charge attitude he was used to.

He decided to go with honesty, although she wasn’t one for compliments.

“Granger, I’m inclined to marry you on the spot.”

Her answering blush showed her uncomfortableness, although she still held his gaze. In that moment, he wondered if maybe she might have had thoughts of him too, as if she had acknowledged the possibility that he could be more than an occasional shag at weddings. He felt the tension mounting between them and knew he needed to lighten the mood.

“Seriously, though. You’ll be a beautiful bride in whatever you wear, but in that dress, you are simply stunning.” He gave her a small smile that he hoped gave her the reassurance she needed without belying the confusing feelings he felt underneath it.

There was no way she could be feeling the complicated emotions that he was in that moment, a sense of promise and anticipation, but also disappointment, because she was marrying Goldstein.

She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts and the moment was broken. “Well, thanks Draco.”

She turned to the woman who had been helping her.

“I guess this is the one.”

As she went to change, the shop attendant came back out, carrying the dress and turned to him.

“You know, it’s unusual for the groom to help pick out the dress.”

“Oh, I’m not the groom. I’m just a friend.”

The woman gave him the oddest look.

“That’s funny. The two of you have such natural chemistry. I just thought…”

Her voice trailed off, and she busied herself at the register until Hermione emerged, dressed in her own clothes once more.

Draco checked his watch as he waited for Hermione to finish her transaction. It wasn’t quite midday, but close enough. He wasn’t ready for his time with her to end; he wasn’t ready for her to walk away. He scrambled for something.

“Lunch? Do you like Thai?” he offered.

Lunch was safe. It was normal. People ate lunch with other people’s fiancées all the time without it being an issue.

“Absolutely.”

His face broke into a smile and he breathed easier.

“Great. I know a place that's not too far; let’s go get some.”

They talked as they walked along the London streets. She asked him how he enjoyed working as an Auror ( _well enough_ ) and what he did in his free time ( _not much that was fit for discussion in mixed company_ ). It helped that they had Harry in common. Draco had enough stories about stupid things that Potter had done as his partner to make up for the years when they hadn’t gotten along.

Hermione threw back her head and laughed heartily at a particular story about the time that he and Potter had been sent out to help wrangle a herd of stolen mooncalves, but only he had remembered to cast a spell to prevent the creatures from dancing away as they closed in on them. After an hour’s work in a dark, damp field, Potter had been left with nothing to show for it, as the shy creatures sidestepped him time and time again.

For extra effect, Draco had actually imitated the mooncalves’ dance, as they continued to elude Potter, which brought Hermione to tears. Once she had caught her breath, Hermione turned to him and scoffed with what he hoped was mock outrage.

“Please, it’s not like you even paid attention in Care of Magical Creatures.”

“Just because I didn’t always listen in class didn’t mean I hadn’t read the book. I would think you could appreciate someone who read ahead. You sure did enough.”

The most delicate hint of pink appeared on her cheeks and he remembered she wasn’t one for compliments. She did not miss a beat, however.

“Guess you missed the chapter on hippogriffs then.”

Clearly, he had walked right into that. Thankfully, they had reached the restaurant. He opened the door and stood to the side to let her enter, marveling to himself that at this point in his life, he would prefer to make Hermione Granger blush than turn red in anger. It was much nicer this way.

Hermione hadn’t been able to decide what she had a taste for, so he had ordered several dishes for them to split: pad thai, pad see ew and a coconut curry that was one of his favorites. He also took the liberty of ordering a bottle of wine; it was Saturday, after all.

Hermione wasn’t shy - she filled her plate and groaned at the first bite.

“Ohh…this is so good. These flavors. I haven’t been able to get Anthony to try much in the way of different cuisines.”

“No, not a fan?”

“He sticks to the basics, stereotypical English cuisine, but give me a curry any day and I’m a happy girl.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The table was quiet for a few minutes as they both enjoyed their meals. Between the little noises that Hermione made when she was eating, which sounded too much like other noises of hers that he had heard before, his brain was working overdrive to keep things straight.

He knew it wasn’t his place to ask about her relationship, but he found he couldn’t help himself. After all, their last shag was _after_ she had gotten engaged. He had no plans to mention that; she was as aware of that as he was.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, it sounds like you and Anthony are rather different.”

Hermione looked thoughtful.

“Are we?”

“You seem to be. Already today, you’ve said that he doesn’t venture out into Muggle London, but you’re Muggle-born. And not that my path crosses Goldstein’s that often, but back at school he was quite a stick in the mud, where you’re anything but that.”

Hermione shrugged, “Not that I need to defend myself, but what does it matter to you?”

Here it was, a chance to be honest with her. His chance to take a shot, regardless of the ring she had on her finger. After all, that one was just a promise of something to come. He turned on every bit of charm he could muster and leaned across the table towards her.

“I think you and I have far more in common than the two of you.”

Hermione, however, was anything but enchanted by his attempted wiles.

“What, because you like Thai food?”

She laughed easily, but Draco was undeterred.

“I know - it seems silly, but I think there could be more between us, Hermione. There’s something here, something that would be good for both of us.”

Hermione looked wistful and sighed.

“I have to say, Draco Malfoy, you’re not at all what I expected.”

She pushed back from the table and stood to leave; and Draco knew his shot at the goal had missed, and with it, his chance at anything with her.

“I should get going. I’m supposed to be at Harry’s in a few. Thanks for everything.”

She leaned down and kissed his forehead and then walked out of the restaurant; and Draco sat wondering if he should run after her or let her go, long past the time he knew she would have Disapparated away.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco woke up to a grey day, grey like his mood.

He couldn’t avoid attending the wedding. Everyone else would be there, and he simply didn’t have a good excuse. Plus, there was some part of him that hoped Hermione might not go through with it; that she would decide to leave Anthony at the altar. It was a very, very small hope, but one he harboured nonetheless.

Theo looked at him over his morning cup of coffee. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Draco scowled. His roommate didn’t know the half of it. He might have some suspicion, but he had no idea how deeply Granger had gotten her hooks into him.

“Why wouldn’t I go? What possible reason would I have to not go?”

Theo shrugged and got up from the table. 

* * *

The wedding and the reception were being held in a space near Diagon Alley. Draco wondered if it was a nod towards Granger’s Muggle-born sensibilities or the fact that she didn’t have a family home in the Wizarding world at which to host the event. Granted, the Goldsteins could have hosted.

Unlike the over-the-top floral arrangements and decorations that typically marked a wedding, the decor was tasteful, yet subtle. It was clear, at least to Draco, that Hermione had had a hand in all of it. He should have expected that — that the details would be important to her.

He donned the kippah that was offered and followed the flow of the crowd to the main room where the guests were sitting, quickly slipping into a seat next to his friends. At the front of the room, there was a simple chuppah draped in white. The new Mrs. Zabini was sitting directly next to him with her hand draped protectively over her stomach; she was definitely showing at this point. Blaise was on a tighter rein now, but didn’t seem to mind. To Draco’s amusement, Blaise had transformed into the ever-doting husband and father-to-be, catering to his wife’s every whim — and she had many. The two were rather evenly matched, although occasionally Draco missed his favorite wingman and partner-in-crime.

Ginny placed a hand on his arm and smiled, a product of the easy camaraderie they had forged in the last several months. The music started and he helped her to her feet, both of their heads swiveling to watch the procession.

First the rabbi appeared, followed by an older couple who Draco assumed were Goldstein’s grandparents. Anthony’s parents then walked him down the aisle, followed by Harry, who appeared to be Hermione’s only attendant.

Was it unusual for a man to be the Maid of Honour? Of course. But when had Granger ever been traditional? Draco was sure that Hermione would have made clear that she was doing this exactly how she wanted, regardless of social norms or mores. Besides, it gave him plenty of fodder with which to tease Potter in the days ahead.

Hermione walked down the aisle alone. She was a beautiful bride, wearing the dress he had helped her pick. He caught her eye for a moment as she walked, and all of a sudden he felt like his robes were much to heavy for the weather.He looked in her eyes, trying to find any hint that she had lingering thoughts of him or doubts, something to show he was not alone in the incertitude. He knew it was silly, but he couldn’t help it. As she continued and passed him, he turned towards the front and caught a glimpse of Goldstein’s face, looking like the cat that had got the cream.

The rabbi started with the formalities. Draco shifted uneasily as she began to ask Hermione her questions. Would she go through with it? He knew there was something between them. He knew she felt it, too. The moment of truth was upon him.

“I do.”

Her words hit him like a blow to the stomach. He took a deep breath, feeling rather foolish for having hoped at all; and he still had to make it through the reception. 

After the ceremony, Draco dutifully stood in the reception line to congratulate the bride and groom. Mercifully, Anthony was otherwise occupied when his turn came, so he was spared the particular indignity of congratulating the man for marrying the girl he wanted for himself.

He turned to Hermione. She was radiant, looking every bit the confident, collected woman he knew her to be. However, her hair was up, and he missed her wild curls.

“Granger, you are a beautiful bride.”

She stood on her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek, not quite the consolation prize he had hoped for.

“Thanks Draco. I’m glad you’re here.”

* * *

Draco had lost count of the drinks he had imbibed to numb himself, or at least to help him forget. He had taken up residence at a table, unable or unwilling to make an effort at being social this evening. Most of his friends were off and about. Theo checked on him from time to time, trying to entice him to talk to someone or another, trying to get him out of his self-imposed funk.

“Hello, Draco.”

He turned to see Astoria sit down on his other side and stiffened. She was the last person he wanted to see right now. Clearly, the post-Hogwarts social scene was too small.

“Astoria.”

“No need to be so stiff, I just came to say hello.”

“Well, you’ve done that.”

“I’m not going to yell at you, Draco, or start scolding. I’m seeing someone.”

“Oh?” He could feign polite interest, if it would get her to leave him alone sooner.

“Yes, Graham Pritchard. Do you remember him? He was in my class, and he’s wonderful. All I can think of is how lucky I am the two of us didn’t end up together. I know it was what our parents wanted, but that would have just been a nightmare for both of us, don’t you think? I don’t know that you’ll ever be able to settle down.”

She rose and walked off, and for the first time in a while, Draco felt like he hadn’t had to dodge her blows or escape her.

On the outside, he smiled and nodded his head, glad that she said her piece and left without causing a scene. But on the inside, he wondered if that was really what everyone thought: that he wasn’t the marrying type. He had always planned to get married someday. He knew his parents expected it of him, and he knew logically that the Malfoy name would need to be carried on by his heir. It was just that someday hadn’t come yet.

And now, the problem was that the one woman he could really see himself with had just gone and got herself hitched.

That was a clear impediment.

Draco watched Goldstein dance with his new bride, wondering what it might be like to be in his place. He downed the contents of the glass in front of him, and stalked off to find somewhere more private to brood. He found a small library with a sofa to sit on easily enough and closed his eyes for a moment.

“My, my, I wouldn’t have believed it, unless I had seen it myself, Draco. You seem to have caught feelings for the Gryffindor princess.”

Pansy took the seat next to him. He frowned and turned his head towards her.

“Can’t get anything past you, Pans. Is it that obvious?”

“Only because I’m me, and it’s you, Draco,” she sighed. “When did this happen?”

“It hasn’t. Our paths crossed a few times, and it turns out she was completely different than I was expecting. But clearly, I was the last to figure it out.”

Pansy placed her hand on his arm in comfort.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

That seemed like an odd thing for Pansy to say. “Why? You’ve never been a fan of Granger’s.”

“No, but I’ve always been a fan of yours.”

“And I love you for it.”

He leaned over and wrapped an arm around her. She was such a good friend, loyal as a Hufflepuff, although he’d never say that to her. She’d always stuck by him and had always been there for him, no matter what.

He breathed into her hair. “I seem to be a lost cause, Pans. But one of these days, you’ll find someone.”

She pulled out of his embrace and straightened her dress.

“Maybe I already have, and he just doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

He frowned, “How could anyone not love you, Pans?”

She looked at him curiously and shook her head.

“Draco, it’s _you_. I want you to look at me the same way you’ve been looking at Granger all night.”

“What?” Draco sat stunned.

“You big idiot. I’ve always been in love with you. It’s been you ever since the Yule Ball during Fourth Year... Hell, even before then.”

He furrowed his brow.

“I know we fooled around when we were younger, Pans, but we both agreed that was nothing serious and we went our own ways.”

“No, Draco. _You_ decided that and I went along with it, because that was what you wanted.”

“Really? After all this time?” He sat stunned. This was news to him.

She let out a heavy sigh. “Always.”

Draco shook his head.

“You have to let me go, Pans. I’m defective. I’m just not the marrying type. You deserve someone who will love you and cherish you and-“

She reached over and smacked his arm, interrupting his thought.

“I know that, stupid. Don’t you think that’s what I’ve been trying to do for the last however many-”

An insistant tapping interrupted Pansy’s thought. They both turned to find a small window on the edge of the room. It was odd for a letter to arrive like this in the midst of the celebration. Perhaps the owl couldn’t get to whoever it needed and thought it might have a better chance of being seen in a quieter room.

Pansy stood before Draco could and walked over to open the window. The owl flew in and came to rest on the arm of the couch, where he still sat.

“It’s addressed to me,” he said cautiously. He untied the letter; the owl flew back off into the night while Pansy closed the window behind it. He turned it over and groaned when he saw the return address. This couldn’t be good.

“What is it?” Pansy asked, standing in front of him.

He took a deep breath and skimmed the note before passing it to Pansy. It confirmed what he had suspected.

“It’s my mother. She’s died.”


	5. Chapter 5

December in England. Predictably, it was raining.

Pansy stood next to Draco outside the family mausoleum, her small frame doing its best to give him what strength it could.

It wasn’t that his mother’s death was unexpected. In fact, it was more of a mercy than anything else. Still, it was so final. He was now alone, the last of the Malfoys, and nearly the last of the Blacks.

His Aunt Andromeda stood nearby. He was comforted by that, glad that the two women had reconciled when his mother had needed it most. He was not without guilt, though. He had made sure that his mother had everything she needed, but for the most part, Draco had stayed away.

His own feelings for his parents were complicated — what they had let happen to him, what they had had him do.

It was easier for him to live his own life if he didn’t have to hear her incessant pressuring about what he needed to do to ensure the Malfoy name was back on top and hear her nagging about when he was finally going to settle down and produce an heir. It was less complicated if he didn’t have to see how diminished she had become, stricken with an illness for which there was no cure, coupled with a broken heart from the loss of her husband — the man Draco blamed for taking their lives off track in the first place.

A few others had gathered. You could see where their Impervius charms bent the water around them, trying to stay dry in the steady drizzle. He glanced at the faces and saw more of his friends and acquaintances than his mother’s. No one knew what to do with Narcissa in the aftermath of the war, the woman who had played hostess to the Dark Lord and then sold him out. 

All for him. All to try and keep him safe.

Sometimes, it was more than he wanted to carry, given he was unable to fix things for her, unable to make her better.

It didn’t bother him that there weren’t more people here; he’d prefer to not have to answer questions about her illness. Those who needed know, knew and were loyal enough to have kept it out of that rag, the Prophet. And those that didn’t know, didn’t need to know. But at the end of it all, she was still his mother and he, her son; and he would stand up before everyone assembled and give her a proper eulogy.

Pansy squeezed his hand, letting him know that it was time to begin, time for him to say a few words about the woman who had been everything to him for so many years. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, casting a Sonorous charm so his words could be heard.

“My mother was a complicated woman. Loved by some. Despised by others.

But nonetheless, she was my mum.

People saw her as austere and cold, but I can remember the nights she slipped away from a dinner to come tuck me in and read me one of the Tales of Beedle the Bard before I drifted off. Or when she gently cajoled my father to not scold me when I had done something wrong. In many ways, she was the best part of us.

For those of you who ever attended a New Year’s Ball here at the manor, you know how much she loved the season - the turn of one year to the next, the act of leaving the old behind and welcoming in the new.

She used to tell me that every year was a chance to make a fresh start — that while we couldn’t forget who we were, the New Year always brought the ability to make new choices. We were never stuck with what we had done, just because.

And as you know, when it mattered most, she did what needed to be done. Regardless of what had happened along the way, when it came down to it, she made the right choice.

Some years ago, I came across a poem that I'd like to share with you. I found it poignant then, even more so now.

Because I could not stop for Death –

He kindly stopped for me –

The Carriage held but just Ourselves –

And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove

At Recess – in the Ring –

We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –

We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed us –

The Dews drew quivering and chill –

For only Gossamer, my Gown –

My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed

A Swelling of the Ground –

The Roof was scarcely visible –

The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – ‘tis Centuries – and yet

Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses’ Heads

Were toward Eternity –

And so Narcissa Black Malfoy, cherished daughter, adored sister, treasured wife, and beloved mother, with these words, we say goodbye, as you have taken that first step towards eternity where we cannot yet follow. We inter you and commend your soul to what awaits us all.

May we meet again beyond the veil.”

Draco took a white rose he had cut from one of his mother's prized rose bushes and laid it on the steps then turned to find Pansy again, his anchor in the midst of it all.

He stood awkwardly to the side as the mourners came to greet him. He’d rather not be there at all, but he knew how to be a Malfoy. It was what his mother would have expected — that he be a proper host and welcome their guests, showing none of the unnecessary emotion while doing so. So, he occluded; he buried anything that wasn’t necessary in this moment. He would deal with it later, but for now, he would be the son she had raised him to be.

He greeted the guests one by one, shaking hands and nodding at their offered condolences. Harry clapped him on the arm, his own eyes red; and as his partner moved away, he saw Hermione standing in front of him. His first reaction was confusion at seeing her there, thinking he must be mistaken, but she reached for his hand and carefully wrapped it in both of hers. He hadn’t noticed her in the crowd, probably because she wore her hair up again, most likely as protection from the interminable moisture that continued to fall.

“Draco, I’m so sorry about your mum. That was a beautiful eulogy. Dickinson - that was a nice choice, although that may have been lost on most of your guests.”

She had tears in her eyes, even though she had no good memories of the house behind them. Yet here she was, attending the service of a woman who had allowed her to be tortured by her sister on the drawing room floor.

He struggled for what to say to that, so he slipped into what was comfortable and expected.

“Thank you for coming. Aren’t you supposed to be on your honeymoon?”

His voice sounded stiff and distant, even to himself. He felt as if he was going through the motions, removed from his body, as if he was watching someone else’s conversation.

“We can do that any time. It was more important for me to be here. I know your relationship with your mother was complicated. I wanted to be here, for you.”

She reached up and touched his jaw, and he closed his eyes as he felt himself lean into the pressure of her hand for just a moment — a reflex, nothing more.

“Do you remember what you said at the restaurant?” She looked up at him.

He nodded. Of course he did; when he made a perfect arse out of himself, talking about things that could never be — especially now, particularly now.

She stood on her toes and whispered in his ear, “I’m glad you said it.”

As she pulled back, she trailed her lips along his jaw. It wasn’t a kiss, but it wasn’t nothing either. He wasn’t sure what to think of the exchange, so he tucked it away to examine later and instead focused on fortifying his mental walls.

He stepped back from her stiffly and nodded again, and then she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem is Because I Could Not Stop for Death, written by Emily Dickinson


	6. Chapter 6

Draco hadn’t had any trouble getting up this morning, given he had tossed and turned most of the night. He felt as if he hadn’t been able to get any real rest; plus, Theo had been a strict taskmaster, limiting his firewhisky the night before and insisting everyone “get the hell out” long before it would have been too late. He should have been able to sleep like a baby, but sleep had been elusive until just before the sun began to rise. And as he nodded off, he heard the tapping of an owl at his window.

At that point, Draco officially gave up and got out of bed to let the blasted creature in; Pepper Up Potion would have to carry the day.

Predictably, it was a note from Theo — making sure he was up and moving. Even though he was no longer in the room next door, he had still made it his mission to be sure Draco was awake and alert. It wouldn’t do to be late today, of all days.

The good thing about getting up so early was that he had plenty of time to shower and shave. He carefully styled his blond locks. His hair was shorter now, the way his bride-to-be preferred.

He pulled on his shirt, carefully fastening each button and donning the Malfoy crest cufflinks in each cuff. He put on the smart new dress robes that he had been instructed to purchase and gave himself a once over in the mirror before nodding approvingly at his reflection.

It wasn’t every day that one got married, and to hear most talk, they had thought it highly improbable that he would ever settle down, but things changed, and here he was.

He took a good look at the room around him — the room he had grown up in. It was the last night he would ever spend here, as tonight he would move into the Master Suite with his bride. The elves had been busy redecorating according to her specifications for some time now, and they were under strict instructions to have the suite ready for the new mistress of the manor.

It was time for him to go greet his destiny. He knew his bride would be most put out if he arrived late, and that was not an argument he needed to have, not today of all days.He visualized where he would land and turned on the spot.

After landing on the lawn, Draco looked around. Elves were bustling to and fro, making sure everything was perfect. A few guests had begun to arrive on the grounds, but mercifully, his arrival hadn't attracted any attention. The guest list was a long one, though, and he guessed that the seats would begin filling shortly. 

“Oh, thank goodness.”

Pansy breathed a sigh of relief, emerging from the tent where the reception was to take place. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back inside. At this point in the day, it was empty, a refuge where he could wait until it was time for him to emerge.

“What?” He gave her a look of surprise. “I told you I would be here on time.”

“Which, knowing your history, means very little.”

She dusted his shoulders, as if he had used the Floo, then fussed with his bowtie for a momentbefore she stood back and looked at him.

“I can’t believe this is finally happening.”

“To be honest, I’m not sure I can either, Pans.”

She smiled at him, and there was love in her eyes, but none of the misplaced longing that had been there before.

“I’m happy for you, you know.”

“Are you?”

“Of course — when you’re happy, I’m happy. Besides, Percy is taking up plenty of my time now. I simply don’t have the energy to babysit you anymore.”

“I’m thrilled for you, Pans. You two seem well suited.”

“Well, everyone else seemed to be doing quite well with a Gryffindor, I figured it was worth the try.” She grinned. “And given he’s a Pureblood, Mother can’t say a thing.”

She raised her left hand and wiggled her fingers, showing off a respectable engagement ring before tucking her hand into the pockets of her dress. She looked rather pleased with herself.

“I’m going to go check on things in the house. You stay out of trouble.” Her finger poked Draco’s chest in emphasis.

“How could I possibly get in trouble today?”

She looked back at him from the entrance of the tent with a knowing look. That was the trouble with your nearest and dearest, they knew all of your little secrets.

He sighed and sat down, waiting for Theo to make an appearance; he wondered if he might be able to find an elf and convince it to bring him a glass of champagne to help ease his nerves.

Before too long, he was going to be married. The weight of it all was substantial. Draco ran his hands over his face and sat with his elbows on the table in front of him. His mother would surely scold him, if she saw his posture right now.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”

He lifted his head. He knew that voice.

“Hermione.” He called out to her instinctively, as she turned to leave.

She turned again and walked towards him with a small smile.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

He smiled in return. She had cut her hair shorter than it had been when he had last seen her, but her curls were still riotous. It was good that some things never completely changed.

“It’s good to see you. How’s Anthony?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” she sighed. “We’re not together any longer.”

He hadn’t been completely able to hide his look of surprise before he schooled his features.

“I didn’t know. I haven’t seen you since…”

His voice trailed off. Since the funeral. Since he buried his mother.

Hermione nodded sympathetically, knowing what he had left unsaid.

“It didn’t really work out. We’re just two different people. It was a mutual decision.”

He was amazed they had managed to keep it out of the papers and wondered what it had taken to accomplish that, but he knew Granger was an intensely private person.

“I can’t believe our paths haven’t crossed, though.”

“I left for Paris right after.”

“Paris, again.” It was neither a statement or a question, just an observation on his part.

Hermione waved her hand in explanation. “Just a short assignment. I needed a bit of a distraction.”

“I see.”

“I’m sure Astoria will be a beautiful bride.”

He nodded. She was — she would be the perfect bride, with her pin straight hair and flawless skin. She would be every bit the bride his mother would have wanted for him, with a flair for design, and just the right amount of opinions that were meant to compliment his own and be a credit to the family name. 

But Draco found he preferred wild curls with just a smattering of freckles, with a quick wit and wand.

Hermione reached up and straightened his tie, apparently not satisfied with the job Pansy had done.

He looked down at her, thinking so many things. What if he had known? Could they have given it a go? Would she even have been interested? But none of it mattered now.

“Bollocks. Our timing is always so very bad. Isn’t it?”

She smiled and patted his cheek. “I don’t know, Draco. Some things work out exactly as they’re supposed to.”

They stood there for a moment, looking in each other’s eyes, neither of them moving. She was close enough to kiss.

She exhaled and the moment was broken.

“You’ll be fine.”

She reached up and kissed his cheek and walked back out of the tent.

Draco had only just sat back down when Theo came bustling in.

“Here’s the man of the hour. It’s almost time. You ready?”

He looked up at his oldest and dearest friend. “Am I allowed to say no?”

Theo’s eyes widened and he grabbed the chair next to him and sat. “Well, it would make for a more interesting morning, that’s for sure.”

Draco sighed.

“Is it Hermione? I saw her leave as I was walking this way.”

“Yes. I mean, no. It’s not her, it’s me. Seeing her reminded me that I’m just going through the motions. My parents are both dead and here I am still trying to be the dutiful son, trying to make it up to them, rather than doing what I want or what I think is best.”

“Sweet Salazar, Draco. This is a hell of a time to figure that out.”

“What can I say, I’m a late bloomer?”

“And Astoria?”

“I don’t want to hurt her. She doesn’t deserve this. She’ll be livid with me. And her parents? I can’t even imagine.”

“Nor does she deserve to get married to someone who doesn’t love her-”

At that, Draco gave Theo a look, both of them were well aware of how pureblood marriages worked.

“-at least without her knowing that’s what she’s doing. If you know she’s not the one for you, if you know you don’t want to do this, you owe it to her to tell her now.”

Bugger. Bugger. Bugger.

Blaise came hurrying in.

“Draco - everyone’s assembled. You ready?”

He took a deep breath.

As much as he was interested in Hermione, what had they shared? A couple nights and a few conversations? Relatively speaking, that was not much. In contrast, Astoria had spent the better part of the last ten months by his side, helping to sort out the affairs of the estate and dispose of his mother’s belongings. She had become such a constant presence in his life that it seemed natural that he settle down with her. It didn’t even matter that he didn’t really love her; many pureblood marriages were based on less.

He turned away from Theo’s questioning eyes and looked at Blaise. It was the right thing to do. He would see this through.

He answered Blaise’s question, “Yes.”

Except he couldn’t. As Astoria walked down the aisle towards him, the pit in his stomach grew larger and larger, until he felt as if it might swallow him whole.

She was truly a beautiful bride, walking down the aisle on her father’s arm dressed in a monstrous tulle creation. She was every bit the pureblood fairy princess, but he looked at her and he felt absolutely nothing. There was no spark, let alone a flame. Astoria was perfectly lovely, but she wasn’t for him.

He held up his hand before the minister could begin to speak.

Astoria looked at him, confused.

“Tori, I’m so sorry. I don’t think I can do this.”

“Of course you can, Draco. What are you talking about?” She frowned as she tried to make sense of what was happening to delay their wedding — her perfect day.

In the absence of knowing what to say, Draco fell back on the words Theo had said not so long before.

“While I think the world of you, you deserve someone who loves you completely, Tori. And I realize, I’m not that person.”

Her face fell, and Draco felt horrible, even though in his heart he knew he was doing the right thing.

As his words sank in, Astoria started fumbling with the folds of her dress; her expression had turned to one of anger.

“Go. Go now, Draco, before I count to three. Because if I get to my wand and you’re still here, I don’t think I can stop from hexing you.”

He hastily turned to Mr. Greengrass and the assembled guests, all wondering what was going on at the front.

“I’m sorry.” He said simply, and then he Disapparated away.

* * *

Draco stood dazed in the flat he had shared with Theo until quite recently. He wondered why his thought had been to come here, instead of the manor, but this still felt like home, far more than the manor did. A moment later, Pansy appeared behind him, either having found the manor empty or correctly guessing where he had gone.

“Oh, Draco.” She pulled him to sit on the sofa and wrapped her arms around him, knowing that there was nothing she could say in that moment that could possibly make any of this better than the absolute shitshow that it was. They sat there for several minutes, as Draco berated himself for being such a selfish arse.

At some point, Pansy got up and left him to wallow on his own; he heard her rummaging in the kitchen, whether for tea or firewhisky, he wasn’t sure. It might be just after ten in the morning, but he could use a drink right now.

He lifted his head when he heard a glass hit the table in front of him; firewhisky it was.

Pansy reclaimed her spot, her own glass in hand.

They both looked up at the sound of a pop. Theo stood before them, a wry grin on his face and a large box in his arms.

“Hey. I got some cake.”

Pansy looked up from her spot on the sofa, “All that’s going on right now and that was your first thought?”

Theo grin grew larger. “Priorities, Pans. Clearly, you haven’t tried the cake.” He set it down on the table, licked some icing off of his hand and headed off towards the kitchen.

Cake. It was his wedding cake — the cake that was to celebrate a marriage that hadn’t happened. It was surreal. Granted, Draco didn’t even know what kind it was, given Astoria and her mother had taken care of every detail without even asking his opinion. They had waved off his interest, as if everything had long been planned. All he had to do was show up and get married, they had insisted.

And he hadn’t even been able to do that right.

Theo returned brandishing forks.

Pansy wasted no time in digging in. “How exactly did you do that?”

Theo looked smug. “I was fast and I bribed an elf.”

“It is really good cake.” Pansy groaned as she shoveled another bite in her mouth.

“Sorry, Draco. I thought we’d only have one shot at it.”

Draco hadn’t moved, uninterested in cake. His head was still buried in his hands. “What have I done?”

“Made a royal mess of things, as usual.”

Draco glared at his friend, incredulous. “But you said to do it.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a dick move.” Theo shrugged.

At that moment, the Floo roared to life and Blaise stepped through, his eyes finding Draco’s.

“Well, you’re on Daphne’s shit list, for sure. Oh, is that the cake?” He grabbed a fork and dug in.

“Where’s Red?” Theo wondered aloud.

“I sent her home with the baby. No sense in having either of them in the midst of this, although Ginny didn’t seem that surprised.”

Blaise looked at Draco curiously.

“So what exactly just happened? What was the reason for leaving the poor girl at the altar? Do we have the story yet?”

Pansy piped up. “No, he’s still processing.”

“Well, to be honest, Astoria wasn’t all that much fun.” Blaise supplied, as he helped himself to more of the cake on the table.

Draco groaned. “Not helping.”

“And you’ll still be in the paper tomorrow.”

Draco looked at Theo, his face aghast. “You think?”

Of course he would be, but not for the reasons he was supposed to be. He didn’t know how long it might be before he could even show his face in public. His mother would have been mortified. Hell, he was embarrassed by his actions, not to mention unbelievably confused by what had just transpired. He took another drink and sat back.

There was a knock at the door. The four friends lapsed into silence, wondering who it might be, but no one moved to open in.

After the second knock, Draco rose from the couch.

“Oh, hell. If anyone is going to get hexed, it should be me.”

He took a deep breath and opened the door to find his partner standing there.

“Hey,” Harry said with a guilty look, “I couldn’t get through the Floo, so we had to come around the Muggle way. I wanted to check on you, given your rather abrupt exit. Oh! Is that the cake?”

He walked inside, revealing that Hermione Granger had been standing behind him with a mortified look on her face. She seemed to have been caught by surprise by Potter’s sudden movement, not sure whether she should be standing there, or not.

Suddenly, no one else mattered. Draco quickly stepped into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind him. The two of them stood looking at each other, each unsure what to say.

Hermione broke the silence.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come today.”

Draco shook his head.

“No, no. That’s not it at all. There’s no need for you to apologize. I think you being there just made clear what I already knew, but hadn’t been willing to admit. It was a bad match.”

He couldn’t help himself from reaching out and gently pulling one of her curls.

He sighed, “I never should have gone down that road, and definitely not as far as I did.”

Hermione tilted her head and looked at him; it was the same look as she had worn before, as if she was trying to figure him out.

“I’m not in love with Astoria, never have been. I’ve been going through the motions doing what was ‘expected of me,’ and it took seeing you today for me to understand that. How could I go through with it when as I stood there, it became clear that I wasn’t at all in love with the person I was getting ready to marry. I couldn’t go through with it, because it made absolutely no sense.”

He took a deep breath. If ever there was a time to put his cards on the line, it was right now.

“Because for me, there was someone else.” 

He paused for a moment, searching for any sign of recognition or acceptance in the face of the woman who had completely upended his world since reconnecting with her all those months ago. She was a mystery wrapped in an enigma. Her face betrayed nothing but surprise at his words, but he pressed forward. In for a Knut, in for a Galleon.

“And while it may seem too rash or too soon to make a declaration of love, I think it would be pretty easy for me to love you, Hermione, and if you’ll have me, I’d very much like to see where this goes.”

The corner of her lips turned up into a smile as she reached up, claimed his lips, and didn’t let go.


	7. Chapter 7

It was a glorious day for a wedding. Draco pulled out his dress robes. They had seen quite a bit of use lately.

Pansy and Percy had married in a lovely spring ceremony.

Even Astoria had found her Prince Charming at last, marrying someone from Durmstrang whose wealth and renown had apparently been more than enough to cure her heartbreak.

She had even invited Draco to the wedding, claiming he was the reason she had found such happiness in the first place. She seemed to be in her element when Draco reached her in the receiving line - a fairy princess surrounded by her adoring court. While Mr. Greengrass declined to shake Draco’s hand, Astoria was happy to see him.

“No hard feelings about all the Howlers, right?”

He'd said no. He had deserved every one of them.

Today, he would put on his formal robes once again.

He heard a noise and walked into the nursery, picking up the little girl who, unlike her mother, was as much of an early riser as he was.

“Hello, little love.”

He scooped her into his arms and rubbed his nose against her cheek. It was their secret, this time together before the obligations of the day began to intrude. Most people would be shocked to see this softer side to Draco Malfoy, not that it phased him. He sang softly as he changed her nappy.

To him, it wasn’t surprising at all, given how easily he had slipped into domestic life with the woman that he wanted beside him. After a whirlwind courtship, Hermione and Draco had decided that neither of them had any great desire to be married, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t committed to each other. Much of their time together was spent in the Muggle world, given Draco was socially a _persona non grata_ in the Wizarding world thanks to Astoria’s post-wedding PR campaign, but even that was changing now that Astoria was happily married and Draco was publicly on the arm of everyone’s sweetheart, Hermione Granger.

Some days he still found it hard to believe. Aside from the fact that the sex was fantastic, he found that commitment wasn’t at all difficult, when you had the right person to be committed to.

He and Hermione had found an easy rhythm, buoyed by a shared love for adventure and an appreciation for their respective independence. Six months after Draco’s disastrous trip to the altar, the two of them moved into a townhouse in London together, and six months after that, little Lyra had made her debut.

He had been shocked that the newest Malfoy sported brown eyes and blonde curls — and had been a girl. Malfoys only ever had boys, after all, but he instantly fell in love.

Now, almost a year later, with their second child on the way, Draco was overwhelmed with all the love in his life, all because of Hermione Granger. He would give her a ring if she asked, but he knew she would never ask, because she didn’t want one. They were totally committed to each other, and they didn’t need a ring or a piece of paper or a big, fancy ceremony to make it real.

But today, they would celebrate the marriage of his closest friend and his partner, Theo Nott and Harry Potter. They were the last of his friends to get married, save for himself and Hermione. This time, both he and Hermione would serve as witnesses for the couple, in front of their friends. There would be no spectacle, no fanfare, just a small assembly of the people that loved Theo and Harry and would stand with them as they officially marked the start of their life together.

If anyone had told him when he was younger that he would be where he was now, he would never have believed them. There was no way he could have wrapped his mind around his current life, as different as it was from the expectations that had been set for him all those years ago.

If he had the chance, though, he’d let that pratty boy know that the world wasn’t what he thought it was; that the muggle-born girl who punched him in third year would become the most important person in his life.

Thirteen year old Draco would have fallen over in hysterics, thinking that was the funniest thing he had ever heard.

But, this older, wiser Draco knew it was all just a matter of timing.


End file.
